Talisa Glace-Blanche of Queen Street
by GamerGirlandCo
Summary: Talisa lived with her single mother in a small apartment on Queen Street. But lately, she's been having nightmares that worsen with each night. When a Repeater saves her and Talisa looks at her mother's past, her life get's flipped upside down. Will it be for better or for worse?
1. Shadows

_**Talisa Glace-Blanche of Queen Street**_

 **Hello everyone, and welcome to TGBOQS! Welp, looks like I'm off my vacay! As you can see, I like having a Snow Pea as a protagonist . . . haha. I decided to give it a rewrite . . . because I felt like it.**

 **Enjoy, and have fun, mi cielos!**

 _ **CHAPTER 1: Shadows**_

 _S-shadows._

 _Y-you know . . . the scary kinds . . ._

 _The kinds that . . . that follow you . . ._

 _The ones that strike fear into every nerve in your body . . ._

 _In short . . ._

 _The . . . the shadows that haunt you . . . almost kill you . . . make you feel like you're about to die at the hands of evil. Hatred. F-fear . . ._

I was walking along the streets of Downtown, slithering shadows with eyes like burning coals surrounding me. I pulled my shawl closer in a futile attempt to shut out the numbness that seemed to blossom and spread over my body like a violent virus. And hey, get this ― I'm a Snow Pea! I'm not supposed to feel shivers . . .

But I digress . . .

I soon heard shrieks and cries of wild, humourless and terrifying laughter behind me. _Probably the wind . . . I reassured myself._ But the laughs got closer. Louder. And the numb, unpleasant feeling of dead only increased. My slow, unsure walking soon sped up to a considerably faster, more confident jog, which finally reconstructed itself into a nimble, light and sanguine dart. The shadows only drew closer, and the cold fingers of Death itself seemed to be tightening at my throat until I choked and sputtered, gasping for air, eyes watery and sore. _A bit more running . . . C'mon . . ._ I recited in my head like mantra, as Casa Loma came into my field of vision. In this terrible lighting, it cast a ghostly silhouette over the hill it was on. Adrenalin pulsing through my veins, I made a dash fir the castle, but the shadows drew nearer yet again. They seemed to whisper my name in such a way that I trembled and shook as I did my damndest to climb up to the roof using the ivy tendrils as footholds. After what seemed like hours, I was almost there. Until . . .

 _CREAK . . ._

The vine I was holding started to sag and the shadows hissed sour breath onto my face as the vine snapped completely and fell away, leaving me to drop to my death as she shadows loped and twisted, revelling in my demise . . .

I jolted awake, cold beads of sweat rolling down my face, freezing and falling away. _Wow_ , I thought. Ain't I lucky it was all a dream . . .

 _But . . . it seemed so real . . ._

I looked out my window, and saw that it was dawn. I looked down at my sweat-soaked sheets and sighed out of sheer exasperation. Looks like I'm gonna have lots of laundry to do soon. Hopping out of bed, I ripped my sheets and blanket off my mattress, wrapped them into a small bundle, and I was down the stairs in a flash. I found my mother in the living room, carrying the laundry basket down to the basement.

"Here, mom. I'll carry it." I said as I stuffed my bundle of the into the wickerwork basket, took it into my arms and started towards the basement.

"Oh, thank you so much Talisa." my mother whispered to me as we descended down to the lowest floor of our little apartment on Queen Street.  
See, my mother is my best friend. She's my only friend. She named me Talisa after her mother, and she slapped her first name after that: Alessia. I call my mother my best friend because she'd give an ear when something was bugging me, we'd share jokes and funny memories while we washed towels, blankets and shawls. My mother loved me no matter what. If I accidentally set fire to our tenants' house, she would scold me, before giving me one of her killer hugs. When I felt mad and took it out on her, she would yell back at me . . . and then a few hours later, we make up. Another reason why my mother is my best friend is that she worked her ass off for _me_. Sure, she might not have been the most beautiful Snow Pea on the street, but she had the leaves and will of a mother that cared so much about her only daughter. That made her _really_ beautiful. But what's really, really, bugging me as we discuss politics over washing sheets is that she's very stressed. She seemed to start acting like this ever since . . . yeesh, I'd rather not talk about it. Bottom line is, my mother loves me in a way that's beyond words, and I love her in the exact same way, period. End of discussion.

So why then . . . Why can't I tell her about a stinking nightmare?!

"Talisa dear? You look troubled. What's eating you?" my mother asked as we finished scrubbing the last towels.

"It's fine, mom. I've been like this ever since . . . y'know . . ." I muttered.

My mother didn't look satisfied, but she accepted my explanation anyways. As we ascended the stairs, I felt like something bad, ugly and terrible was going to take place . . .

 _What's up, little plant?_

 _You're acting stank!_

 _Why can't you stick to the simple plan?_

 _Your mama don't know_

 _Nobody will know_

 _Till you speak up and tell us what's makin ya stank!_

 **A/N: Dat is a wrap for chapter 1! How was that? Plz review! ;)**


	2. Saved

_**CHAPTER 2: Saved**_

 **A/N: GUESS WHAT!? I'm back! I know, I know, you're probably wondering what the heck was going on with me, but it's a VERY long story. So I'll be making a video explaining everything and posting it on YouTube sometime in the future. And to make up for those three months of absence, I'm giving you three chapters of this story! Neato, eh? Having said that shebang, let's get started!**

The clock in our living room and Old City Hall's obnoxious bells chimed 4:00 in the afternoon. My mother came rushing to me, her shawl in one leaf.

"Jesus, Talisa! You're late for ―" she shrieked, before I cut her off.

"I know, mom." I replied as I took the shawl and draped it round my head.

"Stay safe, Talisa-Faith. Don't talk to strangers, go straight to St. Michael's, and don't ―" my mother began to remind me, but I ended up finishing her sentence.

"I know, I know ― don't stray off your path."

Had I been younger, I would have responded with a very cheeky "But there ain't no path in the big city!" But I wasn't, so I didn't, so that ends that discussion. My mom kissed my forehead, asked that God watch over me, and I was out the door and down the street. As I neared a corner, I saw a figure cloaked in black following me. All I could see of it was a pair of glowing amber eyes . . .

 _Like the shadows in my dream . . ._

I almost had a nervous breakdown as I waited quite impatiently to cross the road, willing myself not to have an aneurism in the middle of the road. At last, at long, long last, the light had finally changed. I looked around to see if the figure was still there, but to my immense confusion, the figure had disappeared.

I had arrived at St. Michael's hospital within the next 10 minutes. As soon as I checked myself in, got a bracelet, and headed to the sixth floor, I was greeted by my psychiatrist, Dr. Veisse.

"Hello, Talisa." she greeted me softly.

I went into her office, closed the door behind me, and sat down.

I walked out of the hospital two hours later, and again, I saw that shadow with the flowing eyes. As soon they had realized that I was watching them, they turned and slunk out of sight. I had the urge to follow it, but I though better of it and went straight home. As soon as I had walked through the door, my mother was all over me.

"How did it go?" she asked as I unwrapped the shawl.

"Good, mom." I responded.

"Made me wanna sleep, but good." my mom smiled, and let me lie down on the couch. I closed my eyes and slowly shifted into my strangely shadow-free and peaceful dreams.

I was awoken by the bells of City Hall at six o'clock. My ears rang, buzzed and ached as the very ground beneath me shook and trembled. I tried to go right back to sleep, but hey ― if you're woken up by clock bells high up in a tower, it's about as was to go back to sleep as it would be to jump off the CN Tower and be in one piece. Which is to say, nearly impossible. So, I sat up, rubbed the last particles of sleep out of my eyes and decided to take a walk. As soon as I had stood up to of tell my mother that I was going for a stroll around the block, the heavy weight of dread was dropped onto my shoulders once more, except this time, it felt even heavier than before. Thinking that it was a lack of sleep, I shrugged it off and went up to my mother's room. I knocked on the door and waited for the distracted "Come in."

As soon as my mother had given me permission to come in, I was through that door and beside my mother, who was writing in a leather bound journal industriously and diligently.

"Hi mom. What's up?" I asked.

My mother laughed as she marked her place in the diary and turned to face me.

"When will you kids stop saying that?"

I just grinned and hugged her.

"Mom, is it okay if I go out for a walk?" I asked.

"Uhh . . . no problem. Just be back by eight o'clock. And STAY SAFE. Please. I don't know what I'd do if . . ."

My mother trailed off and hugged me tightly.

"May God watch over you, Talisa-Faith."

O-kay.

This kind of emotional ritual precedes pretty much any outing I go on. You might think that my mom is mad. I kinda don't blame ya, but, well . . . the streets out here in Toronto are very dangerous. All these plants around my age and younger are disappearing left, right, and centre. The zombies are mostly responsible for this. They weren't exactly a problem in the decades before ― on a good week, the zombies attacked only once. But now . . . they're pretty much attacking every other day. In other words, a slough of groans behind you meant that you had to simply turn around and FIGHT. Walking the other way, sprinting onto a streetcar, or dashing across the street was _not_ an option. You gotta fight in these dark times. A weak plant is a dead plant. So . . . that's pretty much why my mom wants to keep me safe. I'm all she has, after all.

I walked down Queen Street, my knife in my bag. I looked over my shoulder every few seconds to make sure that no zombies were behind me. A few minutes later though, I saw a crowd of them as I went along Dundas. I took out my knife and slashed them to ribbons, while I shot peas and insults. The plants and the occasional human glanced at me, shrugged, and kept on going. That's concrete proof that plant-zombie and human-zombie combat is not something to gawk and gape at. It's common. Fighting on streetcars, roofs and in the middle of the road has weaseled its way into Toronto's culture.

I don't know how it happened. All I know is that one second, I'm in Nathan Phillips square, next, I'm on Victoria, walking past an abandoned, dilapidated factory. I saw a shadow flit by me. It looked a me and blinked those burning eyes once, twice. Then it flitted out of sight. I shivered violently, despite the fact that I was Snow Pea and therefore immune to the cold. I looked up at the clock in the nearby church.

 _7:35._

 _Oh, shit . . ._ I thought in alarm as the sky grew darker and darker.

Then suddenly, the lights went out.

I saw that shadow again as it twisted itself around me and started choking me. I tried screaming for help, but my voice wouldn't come. I whipped out my knife and tried to slice at the shadow. It howled as it split momentarily, then became one shadow again. Then, the shadow conjured a knife with a blade that was paper thin and razor sharp. We then engaged in a vicious swordfight right then and there. I got a few nicks in my face that bled lightly, but that didn't stop me from fighting for my life. Next thing I knew, I was cornered. The shadow's eyes burned unto mine as he prepared to slice my neck, when a strong leaf punched the shadow away. The shadow twisted and howled as he grabbed his knife and made off, becoming one with the night once more. In his place, I saw a Repeater staring back at me, my knife in hi leaf.

"I believe this is yours, girl." he whispered as he handed me my knife.

"Thank you." I said real quietly with a smile. Then we stared at each other a bit more.

"So . . . what's your name?" the stranger asked.

"Talisa." I replied.

"Nice to meet you Lacy. I'm Pete." the plant responded.

"Thanks for saving me, Pete. I-I'm sorry . . ." I stammered.

"Don't thank me or be sorry. Just be careful." Pete said sharply.

I reeled as if my mother had slapped me. By this time, the streetlights had come back on. I stepped away from one of the pools of light.

"Sorry, Lacy. I just don't want a girl like you getting killed." he apologized as he held his leaf out to me. I cringed, not knowing what to expect. Finally, I let him wrap his arm around my shoulders and guide me home.

I was at the front door of my house by 7:50 PM.

"Thank — " But Pete did not give me a chance to continue. Instead, he extended his right leaf. I saw a tattoo of an eagle bearing a dagger with four diamonds on the handle.

He took my leaf, hugged me tightly, and was on his way. I shrugged, unlocked my front door, and forgot the hug as my mother embraced me so tightly that I was sure that I was going to stop breathing.

"OhmygoshTalisa-FaithIwassoworriedGodreallywaslookingoutforyouIheardtherewasafightyou'remyonlydaughterI'ddieifIlostyouIloveyousomuchTalisa!" she gushed.

"Mom, I'm alive. The walk was interesting though!" I replied.

My mother released me, then almost had a panic attack when she saw my cuts and that my mouth was trickling blood.

"Talisa! Oh Lord Jesus, I will knock the living shit out of the ass-shitty, bitchy bastard that even dreamt about hurting my daughter!"

I was about to say that I was just fine when my mother dragged me out the door and onto the street.


	3. Is He My Father!

_**CHAPTER 3: "Is He My Father?!"**_

 **A/N: Whaddup everyone, GamerGirl here! This chapter might be kinda short, but that's because it's a filler chapter before all the action. The calm before the storm, that is. Oh, and not to mention that this chapter is quite riddled with easter eggs XD I have no idea as to why I'm so fixated on putting easter eggs into my stories these days . . . but anyways, enjoy!**

"Come with me, Talisa. We are going to St. Mikes, and we are getting you fixed up." my mother mumbled as she squeezed my eaf to the point of cutting off circulation.

"Relax, mom! Its only a bleeding mouth and what, like, ten cuts! Minor cuts! I'm not a hemophiliac, and I'm not dying!" I protested as we turned onto desolate Victoria. My head then started to emanate a bright glow as my mother's crystals turned a bright blue, and mine a very dark blue. Whenever the glow occurred, we got scared because it could end wit someone being killed, or me nearly dying.  
As we passed the desolate factory, I shivered, and made sure that no deadly shadows where waiting to slit my neck. But what I did see was Pete, on the rooftop of the factory. I flashed him a small smile, which he returned, before disappearing into the night. We arrived at St. Mike's not long after, and my mother told me to stick with her. So I did. And in doing so, I lived to realize that I was gonna be in for a SUPER long night.

When my mother and I walked — or rather, _stumbled_ — out of the hospital, it was going on midnight. The glow had subsided, my mouth wasn't dripping blood, and my cuts were treated and disinfected.

"It's getting late, Talisa. We should take the streetcar back." my mother said as we caught the Dundas West streetcar.

"Why couldn't we do that earlier?" I asked as my mother paid our two-dollar fate and we found a seat.

"Talisa . . . I've come close to losing you far too many times. I just . . . I don't know what the hell I'd do if you were to . . ." My mother railed off as the streetcar rattled to a stop by Queen. The glow returned, but this time it was dimmer as we exited he streetcar and headed towards our home.

I pretty much collapsed as soon as we walked through the door. I didn't know if it was a lack of energy or . . .

Well, I think I'm better off not talking about it.

My mother half-carried, half-dragged me into my sprouthood bed. It smelled of lavender and dreamy moondust. My mother tucked me in, kissed me good night, and I soon found myself shifting into my fearful shadow dreams.

I woke up scared, as usual when I had these terrible, terrible dreams. I wiped the last little bits of sleep from my eyes, and decided to clean out my exceptionally messy closet. With an air of reluctance, I nudged myself mentally. _Come on, Talisa,_ I scolded myself. _You need to do this. It makes no sense to have a room that's spic and span and have a closet that's a dump!  
_ So, I yanked open the door and was greeted by an avalanche of long lost sprouthood relics and other junk. I decided to start my sifting and I came across quite a few valuables that I thought had sprouted wings and flown out my window when my back was turned. I found that special jar in which I kept memories of the first fight I got into with a crowd of zombies back in 1984. I was five years old, which was rather impressive, especially considering the fact that I was alive to tell the tale. My first communion necklace, photo albums . . . this place was a gold mine!  
Necklaces, scarves, hospital bracelets . . .

It was ten o'clock by the time I had stuffed my unwanted items into a garbage bag and put my valuables in a decorative arrangement on my desk. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a slightly age-worn and battered photo slid out of my junk bag. It was a picture of a Peashooter, and on the back it said, _To you, Alessia, so you never forget me. ~Wulf Asamius._ Hey . . . is this my biological father?! With the picture in my leaf, I dashed to my bedroom mirror and tried to see just how much I resembled my father. Turned out that he and I looked a bit like each other — we had the same smile and the same build. The rest of my features were passed down by my mother . . . except for one.  
You see, I didn't really notice it until now, but my eyes weren't exactly my mother's aquamarine ones. If one were to look very, _very_ carefully, I could see traces of green on the edges of my irises. My _father's_ green. I looked into the mirror, and suddenly felt angry at fate for not allowing me to have at least a fraction of a memory of a father that I never knew. I suddenly knew what to do. With the photo in my leaf, I was down the stairs in the twinkling of an eye. I ran headfirst into my mother, who swore a few oaths as she recovered.

"Talisa, be _careful!_ You're not four years old anymore! What part of "Don't run in the house" do you not understand?!"

I recoiled in surprise, like I had been viciously slapped, prompting the glowing to return. My mother's eyes widened and she apologized quickly.

"Mom, look what I got! It's a picture!"

I waved the photograph back and forth in front of her face, ad her eyes filled with angry tears.

"Talisa, gimme that!" she hissed.

"I'm tearing it up and leaving it to forever be burned in the fire!"

"Well, I ain't handing it to you if you don't give me some kinda explanation!" I fired back as I began to retreat slowly, my glowing becoming even brighter.

My mother opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to find her voice, and finally gave up.

"Look — if you stop bothering me, I'll let you go on the roof and throw trash at passerby."

My eyes pretty much absorbed he glow that surrounded my head and I happily consented. As I put the picture safely in my drawer, I didn't bother questioning my mother's poor judgment as I grabbed my trash and went op to the roof to terrify passerby. After all, it would be like telling an executioner not to forget his ax.

It was around dinner time that I ran out of ammunition with which to clobber passerby. I wasn't sorry, though. Apparently, word had got out that someone was terrorizing the streets with junk, and the outside world in turn avoided me, which meant that I'd have to be really lucky to hit an unsuspecting pedestrian. So, needless to say, I gladly came down the ladder when my mother called me for dinner

I silently picked at the veal parmesean at dinner tonight. As usual, I didn't eat a lot. Just a few bites of meat and cheese here and there. My mother put her leaf on my forehead and tried to fight back her tears.

"Talisa . . . why, out of all of God's children, did this have to happen to you?" she asked.

I couldn't answer that question. No matter how hard I thought about it, I could never exactly figure out how or why I am the way I a today.

I just hope I can figure it out soon.


	4. 227 Victoria Ave

_**CHAPTER 4: 227 Victoria Ave.**_

I didn't go on a walk that evening, scared that I'd end up on Victoria and be ripped into shreds by one of those demonic shadows. I mean . . . what if there's no one watching to save me? I'm not saying that I'm too weak to defend myself, it's just that those shadows seem invincible. Even if I fired a machine gun as fast as I could at them, there'd be a bunch of holes that'd inevitably heal, and then the shadow would immediately go back to trying to kill me. So, I was left to find something to do for the next five hours. All the chores were done, my closet was very clean, and for some strange reason, my mom doesn't want me in the basement unsupervised. So, I decided too try and go to sleep, no matter how much my body was insisting that it wasn't tired.

Sleep definitely came, and I sure as hell lived to regret it! Because now, my usual nightmare was even worse. The shadows looked more menacing now, and their very mouths oozed dark, sticky read blood as they drooled and chased me through the streets. It was as if they were hungry for my blood AND my soul. This time, my shivers were so violent that I almost stumbled and fell, but I managed to plow on. The night was darker, and the fear was so overwhelming that it seemed as if it was going to painfully consume me from the inside out. Ans worst of all, when I was frantically trying to scale Casa Loma by using its ivy vines, the vines just seemed weaker and more brittle, and when I neared the top, I found myself reaching for someone's leaf. It always seemed as if I couldn't quite reach it . . . and just when I was able to grasp his or her leaf, the vine snapped, leaving me to fall to my death as the shadows actually bit into my skin and sucked my blood out, leaving me to twist and scream in anguish as they hissed, "Your loved ones are next to be cursed."

I then woke up, sweat soaking my bedsheets. _Ugh. More laundry . . ._ I thought miserably as I realized that today was Monday. My mom was working night shifts this week, which left me at home from 8 o'clock in the evening until 8 o'clock in the morning. I tiptoed out of my room so that I wouldn't wake my mother up. I then saw her diary in plain sight on her dresser. The spark of curiosity was immediately lit inside of me. Quietly, oh so quietly, I grabbed the diary off the dresser. Did I feel a few pangs and stabs of guilt because I was stealing a prized possession that belonged to my mother, who, by the way, is the ONLY thing I have EVER had in my 14 years in this world? Oh, hell yeah! Problem is, I got lots of questions that need to be answered as soon as possible. I mean . . . I _do_ have a right to know who my father is . . . right? And what in the hell is making my mother so goddamn overprotective of me? I mean, I know I'm all she has, but what exactly would warrant her thinking that a bout of dizziness was the equivalent of a death sentence for me?  
As I thought hard about the decision that I was making, my mother turned and yelped, "Stop right there! What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?!"

I whipped around quickly, only to find that she was talking in her sleep, which she occasionally did. Breathing a sigh of relief, and briefly thanking God for keeping me out of trouble first think in the morning, I slunk out of my mother's room, leaving no trace whatsoever that I, her own daughter, had stolen something from it.

As I frantically searched for a good hiding place for the diary, I said a little prayer asking God whether or not this was stupid. I breathed a sigh of relief as I finally found a good place to hide the diary — in one of the vents that wasn't being used anymore. With a great feeling of accomplishment, I grabbed my dirty bedsheets and started towards the basement, when I realized 2 things: 1) I'm not allowed in the basement unsupervised, and 2) The keys are . . . nowhere to be found, by my estimations. Facepalming, I decided to start making breakfast: cereal ad fried eggs. Pulling a bowl and a plate and a plate from the cupboard, I poured some milk and cereal into the bowl, and then I set to work cracking the eggs. Watching them flop into the frying pan, I decided to hack away at some unanswered questions. As I turned on the ancient gas stove an watched the eggs sizzle, I thought about my father, who I presumed was this Wulf Asamius guy. _Was_ he actually my father? If so, then why the hell did he leave me? And what exactly makes me so dear to my mother that —

"SHIT!" I squawked as I realized that I burnt my leaf on the burner while I was so deep in thought.  
I examined the burn, and saw that it wasn't too bad . . . until I saw the blood oozing and felt like my body was on fire. I began to feel real dizzy, and I thought that everyone who passed my house was one of those satanic shadows that dominated my dreams. I screamed at them to go away, making my throat itch and burn. I began to have these horrid hallucinations, and I felt like I wasn't going to live any longer.

Then, I lost consciousness.

I woke up minutes later, only to small my eggs burning. I quickly dumped them onto my late and sulked as I gnawed the slightly rubbery eggs. I thought back to the last seven minutes, which were a crazy, painful chain reaction of horror after a damned burn. I looked at my injured leaf, and healed it with a simple trick my mother taught me. Being head nurse at the treatment home she works at, she knew as much about healing and medicine as a highly skilled Sunflower, not to mention that she was just as prolific in those fields, if not a shade more skilled. I smiled at the fact that she was willing to teach me these little things, what with school being out of the question since '78. And for that, I give full credit to our mayor, Brutus Mortus, who is irresponsible as HELL. I mean, let's face it — what type of mayor in their right mind would pull the plug on Toronto's education system just to cut costs?!  
I finished my breakfast 20 minutes later. As I stood up, I saw a lanyard of keys hanging from a thumbtack, with a note attached to it. The note went like this:

 _Talisa,_

 _Because I am working night shifts at St. George, the treatment home I work at, I am leaving you with the keys. But please follow these rules:_

 _Do NOT go roaming around the basement_

 _NEVER answer the door_

 _Don't go anywhere you're not supposed to (hall closet, my bedroom, the cupboard under the sink)._

 _Take care!_

 _A.G. B._

Well, it sure is nice to know that I won't have to sit around and veg all day.

After doing the laundry, washing the dishes, sweeping the floor, and a crapload of other chores, it was 6:30 PM. Wow . . . time sure flies by when you don't have school.

"Talisa! Tal — oh, there you are!"

My mother's voice snapped me outta my daze within seconds.

"Talisa, I'm up now. I'll be in the bathroom washing up, 'kay?"

I nodded and decided to read a little bit of my mom's diary. I read horrifying entries about my mother's affair with Wulf, how her parents were constantly at war with each other, until her drunk father killed her mother. The following day, he killed himself.

"Talisa . . . what are you doing?" I barely heard my mother's voice as I read the diary in which she poured her heart and soul. It was when I heard the knock on the wall that I looked up at my mother's face, which displayed confusion.

"Oh . . . hi . . ." — _gulp_ — "mom! How goes it?" I stammered sweetly as I pasted an all-too-false smile onto my face. My mother wasn't fooled, of course. As she looked at the diary that I held in my leaves, I knew I was in HUGE trouble.

"Talisa Alessia Faith Glace-Blanche, what the _hell_ are you doing with my goddamn diary?!" my mother shrieked.

As soon as she saw the photo of Wulf, that was it. Her fuse had run out. She exploded like a hand grenade.

"Get the hell out of my fucking house, you ass! I don't give a damn about whether you're all I have or not, but I will _not_ let the past catch up with me! Understand!? Because . . . BECAUSE I DON'T NEED TO REMEMBER IT!"

Right then and there, I decided to start packing. I threw my precious few belongings into the canvas bag, including the diary and the photograph. Grabbing my shawl, I darted out of my room and down the stairs, my bag in one leaf. I glanced behind me, and saw my mother holding a butcher knife in one leaf. Her crystals were a poisonous shade of purple, her eyes were flashing dangerously, and even though the glow surrounding my head was becoming quite bright, that didn't stop my mother from chasing me right out the door.

"And stay out, bitch!"

As soon as she slammed the door, it started to pour. I didn't feel sorry though — the weather mirrored _exactly_ how I felt: Shitty. Worthless. Cast aside. Loathed.  
I spent the next five minutes walking up and down the street, until I bumped into my guardian angel: Pete.

"P-Pete! Oh, I'm so glad to see you!" I exclaimed as I threw myself into his arms.

"Uh . . . easy there . . ." he grunted.

"Besides . . . what the hell is your deal knocking me over in the middle of the street?"

I looked into his eyes and remembered the last ten minutes. Slowly, painfully, I tried to put the agony into words. By the time I had finished telling Pete about the ordeal with my mother, my face was all dark blue and puffy. My head was glowing like a beacon, and my crystals were the same colour as blue paint left to fade away into a miserable shade of grey. Pete's eyes softened, and he hugged me right there.

"Lacy . . . it's okay. Let it all out." he whispered.

The raindrops were freezing onto my skin at this point, making me feel like my face was behind a prickly mask. After what seemed like an an eternity of hugging and crying, I was calm, although the glowing remained.

"Hey . . . your head . . . it's _glowing_." Pete remarked.

The glowing became a bit brighter, and Pete cringed a little, but he didn't say anything as we walking along Queen Street. Finally, I mustered up the courage to break the silence.

"Where are you taking me?"I asked.

"I'm taking you to my hangout. In other words, I'll let you live where I'm living." Pete whispered as he squeezed my leaf and smiled.

"Y'know . . . my name isn't Lacy. It's Talisa."

"Didn't know that before. Well, the say that you learn something new every day, right?" he chuckled as he swatted my arm, before growing serious.

"Um . . . about the glow . . ." he began.

"Yeah, what about it?" I replied in a tone of voice that was colder than I intended it to be.  
My crystals then turned a dark blue, and the glowing, which appeared to be receding in the minutes before, returned to its former brightness as we passed the Ryerson campus.

"What . . . what does it mean?" Pete asked, pointing at my head, which was illuminating at least half of Allen Gardens as we passed it.

"Uh . . . I dunno. I saw your head glow once, but that was about it." I answered quickly as we crossed the street and headed along Jarvis.

"Oh — zombies at three o'clock!" I cried, grateful for the distraction. I shot my peas and did quite a bit of kicking and punching as Pete and I fought through the zombie horde.  
Ten minutes later, we gingerly stepped over the dismembered heads, arms and legs.

"When did my head glow, Talisa?" Pete asked as we continued past the old Baptist church.

"Uh . . ." I mumbled, desperately searching for a distraction.

"And hey . . . if you don't want to talk about why your head glows when you're upset . . . or scared . . . I won't be offended." Pete assured my as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders. The glowing became dimmer and dimmer until only the streetlights could help us see.

"Fine . . . I . . . I can't . . . tell you, Pete. It's . . . painful." I sighed as a single tear rolled down my cheek as I thought back to all that pain.

"Talisa . . . I want you to look at me." he said, grabbing my shoulders. My uncertain, fearful eyes looked into his reassuring, faithful eyes.

"I'm gonna promise you something. I promise that no matter what, I'll protect you from all harm, even if it's at hell's gate. You hear? I'm staying by your side, and even if a tornado separates us, I'll go to the other end of the earth just to find you. Do you understand!?" he said in a voice full of conviction.

"Why are you promising me this? You've only known me for a little while . . . and I haven't done anything for you! I'm just a girl —" I began to protest, before I was cut off by Pete.

"You're not just a girl, Talisa. You mean the world to me now." he whispered.

"What?" I asked.

"In my earlier years, if I saw someone in distress, I didn't bother saving them. The more this happened, the colder and more distanced I became, until nobody could trust me and I couldn't trust them. Nobody'd love me, and I wouldn't love them. But you . . . for some reason, you changed that. As soon as I looked into your eyes, _BAM!_ That was all it took. And for that, I'm forever in your debt." Pete sighed, before wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug.

"And if I break this promise . . . even God Himself wouldn't know how to punish me." he muttered in a dark tone full of self loathing and irony.

"No . . . don't talk like that. My mother always did this when I talked like that: she spanked me, and then she told me, "God loves all his children, no matter how high-maintenance or how terrible they are. Honestly, there are tons of people out there who are _far_ more worse than you. And if God was sick of it . . . he would've killed us all of a _long_ , long time ago." He loves you as well. And you know what? There are people out there whose very souls have been corrupted because of their immense wrongdoing. But you ain't like that. You hear? You're to good to be punished by Him." I said as I looked into his eyes. I was about to add something to my statement when Pete pretty much took the words out of my mouth.

"Thank you . . . for everything. And I swear, I ain't letting go."

I smiled as a strange warmth flood my veins. What was this warmth? It's called hope. As soon as my mom had slammed the door, all my hope had been tossed out the window. But now, I'm more hopeful than I'd _ever_ been in my whole entire life. Why? Because I felt like I was _never_ gonna be alone ever again.

A few minutes later, we were at Yonge-Dundas square. Pete led me onto Victoria, which made the glowing return.

"Talisa . . . remember what I said? I gotcha." he whispered as he led me into an alley beside the abandoned factory. He then lifted a sewer lid and climbed in. I felt a pang of uncertainty about whether or not this passage led to trouble, but I willed myself to climb in after him. Suddenly, we found ourselves sliding down, down, down . . .

And then, out of nowhere, the motion simply stopped. I held my leaves in front of me, blindly stumbling somewhere, until Pete grabbed my leaf and pulled me back.

"That's a dangerous drainpipe that you were about to stumble into. It's dangerous because when you least expect it, water'll come rushing in, and there's no way in hell that even a fish could get out alive." Pete yelped as he led me over to what I assumed was a door, before rummaging around in his bag for the key. I then thought back to the last few hours, a crazy, emotional rollercoaster.

 _The hatred._

 _The fear._

 _The sadness._

 _The love._

 _The courage._

 _The hope . . ._

"Hey . . . Talisa."

Pete's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. His arm around me, he led me through the open door, before saying words that, simply said, made my eyes sting with tears of joy.

"Welcome home, Talisa."

After making sure the door was locked, Pete led me up a flight of stairs and around several corners.

"Jesus! How much *paff* longer?" I panted five minutes later.

"Welcome to 227 Victoria, Talisa." Pete replied between pants.

Finally, we came to a stop in front of a door with a sun on it. I sucked in a deep breath as Pete raised his leaf and knocked on the door, once, twice, three times. Finally, the door was answered by a tough looking Sunflower.

"Jesus Christ, son of God! What the _hell_ do yo think you're doing, bringing in a skimpy _haggard_ like this?!" she screamed.  
My wordless reply was a gasp, and the return of the glowing.

"Uh . . . at the risk of sounding insensitive, _what is the deal with your head?!_ "

"Don't bother asking about it! It's too painful for her! Look . . . the girl was just kicked out of her home by her mother, the only family she's got! She needs a home. Please, Raziela, I know — ever since that mark was left by he-who-will-not-be-named, you've been colder than an Ice-Shroom!" Pete yelled. My crystals turned bright blue, and my glowing became even brighter. The sunflower, who I assumed was Raziela, cringed and finally nodded.

"I . . . I'll give you one of the spare rooms." she whimpered as my crystals returned to their customary colour and the glowing fizzled away in a myriad of sparks.

"Go to bed, Pete. We're in for a long day tomorrow." Raziela ordered.

With that, Raziela and I were down the hall. Saw an eagle on her right leaf. It was the exact same eagle that I saw on Pete's leaf.

"Just asking, but why do you have those tattoos?" I asked.

Raziela smiled and tweaked my nose.

"Tomorrow, I'll explain everything." she whispered as she tucked me into my bed.

"Good night, sweet one."

As I laid awake thinking about the events of this past evening, I remembered when Pete held that door open for me and said, "welcome home." When he was holding that door, and when I stepped through it, he wasn't just allowing for me to enter this place

No.

He was holding that door open so that I could step into a new life.

 **A/N: HOLY SHIT! That was one HELL of a chapter! 3441 words, lots of feelz . . . damn, that's a lot! Anywho, that is the end of my update chain for today. I know, there's no saying EXACTLY how long the wait's gonna be, but obviously, it won't be three months like the last time. But until next time, if you're writing a story, continue to shock 'em dead, darling! And for everyone else, stay fabulous!**

 **See ya round!**

 **~GamerGirl has left the building!**


	5. Corrupted Science

_**CHAPTER 5: Corrupted Science**_

 **Whazzup internet, GamerGirl here! And welcome to chapter 5! But before I say anything else, I'd lie to warn all of you guys about this chapter. I'm just gonna raise the red flag because this chapter contains lots and lots of fighting that may be disturbing to some of you. Just giving you a heads up, that's all. Besides, if you've read any of my other stories, you'd probably already know by now that I like to make the fighting as brutal as I can. That shebang out of the way, let's get going, shall we?**

 **(Also, I'm gonna begin this chapter with a couple of quotes ;))**

" _These aren't gems. They're SHARDS. They're basically gems that've been shattered into so many pieces that they don't know who they are anymore. They now only have one purpose: destroy anything in their way. But we can do something about these fractured souls: we can put them back together."_

" _You are broken. Broken into a million pieces. But the pieces are in place for you. It's just a matter of figuring out how to make them fit together."_

"Wakey, wakey, Lacy!"

A loud, thunderous voice woke me up the following morning. It took me a few minutes to realize that Pete was waking me up. Without bothering to knock, he barged into my room.

"Ugh . . . can I just have a few more minutes?" I groaned groggily. Pete just sat down at the side of my bed and shook his head.

"Raziela's rules, girl. Only if you went to sleep at, like, 10 o'clock in the morning would you get a few extra winks of sleep. You didn't, so get up!"

without further ado, he pulled me out of bed and down the stairs into an immense dining room. Raziela was already there, along with two other plants: a shy, handsome-looking Flaming Pea and a haughty, talkative Gold Magnet.

"Top of the morning, Talisa!" Raziela hollered from the table. The other two plants stopped their chattering to look at us.

"New girl, hm?"

"I can see . . ."

"Hey, is Pete already trying to hook up with her?"

"Shut up. You know what they say about assuming — it makes an ass outta you and me.

"All mouth and no mind as usual, eh? I find it kinda amazing."

"Yeah, well, at least _I_ don't annoy the hell outta everyone for a living?"

"Excuse me!? Besides . . . that girl is so . . . _ugly!_ She looks like a girl right outta the circus!"

"First of all, it's not like you're any prettier than her — I mean, for crying out loud, I'm pretty sure that Mortus would look at you to make himself feel better. And second, at least if she's a girl outta the circus, she'll probably be a lot more useful than you!"

After listening to their conversation, the glowing started up. Raziela and the two plants stared at me wide-eyed. I sat down at the table and looked down at my plate. _French toast_. Just seeing it and smelling t brought back memories of home. On most Sundays, we'd make the toast together using a secret recipe. _Our_ secret recipe.  
I sniffled and tried to hold back my tears as I picked at the food in front of me.

"Don't cry, Talisa." Pete whispered as I painfully chewed my breakfast.

"What a little crybaby!" the Gold Magnet snickered. The Flaming Pea rolled his eyes either at me or at her, and Raziela scowled.

"Miseria Vania, if I have to tell you one more time to stop giving Talisa a hard time, I swear to God, I am gonna punch you so hard that your ugly little dollface comes right off! You understand!?" she screamed.

We ate the rest of the meal in silence. My glowing remained, and my crystals retained their woebegone, squalid greyish-blue colour.

After what seemed like a million years, the meal was finally over.

"As you all know, we have a new girl. Her name is Talisa, and she will be staying with us for . . . a while." Raziela announced.

"I'm Desmond. Nice to meet you." The Flaming Pea came up to me and shook my leaf. As he held onto it, my glowing disappeared. I blushed, which made him hold on for a good five seconds. Pete stepped beside me and cleared his throat.

"I think that's enough contact between you two for a day." he hissed.

"Oh, just thought I'd say hi, slut. I'm Miseria, and I might as well make your life as hard as possible while you're here. Just lettin' ya know." the Gold Magnet snarled.

 _WHACK!_

went Raziela's leaf on Miseria's face.

"Enough is enough, girl!" she growled. My glowing returned, making everyone cringe.

"Okay, you know what? Scram, y'all! Take it easy for an hour, and then I want you to meet me by the elevator!" Raziela snapped.

Everyone responded with a dull "Yes'm," before going their own ways. Pete and I remained there standing.

"Uh . . . what's with that Miseria girl?" I asked.

"She's just a superbitch, that's all. She likes to give everyone a hard time." Pete explained.

"Hey . . . wanna go up to the roof?"

Pete and I sat on a bench on the roof. I enjoyed the roof immensely. The fresh air made me feel brand new, and the view was amazing.

"So . . . tell me a bit about yourself, Talisa. What was life like for you? Any friends you miss back home?" Pete asked.

The glowing returned, but this time it was very dim and therefore hard to notice in the bright sunlight.

"Well . . . my full name is Talisa Alessia Faith Glace-Blanche. I like it 'cause it makes me feel unique. My mother likes to call me Talisa-Faith for some reason, and when I was younger, I'd ask her to call me Alessia because I liked to play pretend, and act like I was someone else." I then proceeded to tell Pete about my mother's job, life at home, sprouthood dreams, and we were soon eye-deep in our discussion.

"Hey . . . just asking, but . . . what's the deal with that scar on your left leaf?" Pete inquired.

The scar looked like the Ying-Yang symbol, ad when I got really upset, it hurt like hell. My glowing became bright enough to be noticeable even in the sunlight, and my crystals turned a swirling, dark blue.

"Nothing. Forget that it exists." I muttered sullenly. Pete put his arm around me and sighed.

"You have a lot of secrets, you know. It saddens and scares me quite a bit." I shrugged and looked into his eyes.

"You know . . . not even my mother has cared for me this much, Pete." I whispered as I leaned on his shoulder.

We then just sat there for the next ten minutes, enjoying the presence of one another, lost in our own world of thoughts.

But strangely enough, I felt an odd warmth spreading through my veins. I wanted to bask in it, dance in it. It was a beautiful feeling, and I wanted it to last.

Five minutes later, Pete and I were at the elevator with Raziela, Desmond and Miseria. Raziela inserted a key of sorts into the lock behind the elevator door, which caused the elevator to become functional.

"Inside, everyone! Quick, quick, quick! I ain't got all day!" Raziela snapped.

We all jammed ourselves inside, then Raziela pressed a button with the number four on it.

"Where are we going?" I asked quietly as the elevator began to move.

"Meeting room." Raziela answered with a wink.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, we filed out one by one and took our seat at a small, rectangular table, which was at the front of the room. Behind us, there was a sprawling, confusing maze of bookshelves that were about as tall as I was, which were filled with old books that had faded, dusty covers and pages. Raziela stood up and drew a Ying-Yang symbol on the chalkboard, using a piece of white chalk. Pete gave me a sidelong glance and mouthed, "The scar," which made Desmond and Miseria click their tongues. I saw the flames on Desmond's head become a bright orange as he gave Pete the stink-eye. Raziela just plowed on and began to give a speech like nothing happened.

"My fellow compatriots . . . it is time."

"Our current Mayor, Brutus Mortus, is a mad _freak!_ He has been causing far too much trouble in our city. First of all, in '78, he said "To hell with education!" and now we have _no school!_ Next, he's letting us get away with fighting in the middle of the street! But let's dive a little deeper . . . shall we?" We all nodded.

"Well, then . . . have you heard of the Devil's Diamonds?" A unanimous "no" rose from the four of us. Raziela sighed and let out a low whistle.

"Well, it goes something like this: There are 13 diamonds out there that are claimed to be carved from Satan's crystallized tears, and therefore, they carry a curse. Legend has it that with all 13 of these diamonds, one can have ultimate power over the universe. Now, rumor has it that Brutus Mortus is planning on collecting all 13 of these gems to plot the downfall of the world with Zomboss. The majority of the plants — and people — in Toronto say that this is bullshit. Of course, I just believe they're saying that so Mortus doesn't whoop their asses. I mean . . . those who go against him are never seen again. But going back, we need to foil this dude, and we are willing and able to go to criminal extents just to curb this guy's pan! Right?!"

Everyone just glanced at each other, which got Raziela ticked.

" _RIGHT?!_ "

"Aye," we mumbled nervously.

"Well then . . . your birthday's come early, Talisa!" Raziela chirped. She then dashed into the labyrinth of books that was behind me. Minutes later, I heard a yelp.

"You okay there, Razi?" Desmond asked as he started towards the maze of bookshelves. Raziela's head poked up from below a bookshelf, and her eyes were BLAZING.

"Desmond, don't you take one more step closer to me. Haven't you had enough of this nonsense? You . . ." She trailed off and shook a fist at him.  
Desmond's flames turned a bright blue for 3 seconds before going back to searching for whatever she was searching for. Finally, she emerged with a very dusty book. Giving Desmond the stink eye, she tossed the book at me, knocking half the air out of my lungs.

"Uh . . . Raziela . . . how will an old, dusty book help me?" I asked.

"You'll see." Raziela tossed back without a second thought as she walked back over to the chalkboard. She then drew an arrow from the Ying-Yang symbol that led to the side of the chalkboard that wasn't marred with Raziela's scrawling.

"Guys . . . don't you feel this terrible tension in the air?" Raziela began. I raised my leaf high up in the air. To my immense surprise, Pete's leaf shot up at the exact same time as mine did.

"Good. And I have the explanation for it, too." she said.

"Once every ten years, we have what is known as the Spirit Moon. It is where the spirits of the dead, both good and bad, rise from their graves and go to the moon. Anyone who has witnessed one would see that the Spirit Moon looks exactly like the Ying-Yang symbol. This is connected to a very specific curse that happened to bring two of our Eagles a little bit closer." Raziela explained, eyeing me and Pete with a knowing look.

"Is that why I have this scar?" Pete and I asked in unison as we raised out leaves.

"Wait . . . you have the scar too?!" I gasped.

"Well that was why I was asking about it —"

"Well why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know how you'd react —"

"So is _that_ why you saved me back there and made that promise? Because of a corr —"

"SILENCE!" Raziela barked.

"It's nice that you two have something to talk about, but _please_ —" Raziela was cut off by Desmond before she could finish.

"That scar on Talisa's leaf is _weird!_ "

"Tell me about it!" Miseria agreed.

"Shut up, you two! Hey — I have the scar too, so why aren't you bitching off about me as well?" Pete snapped.

"Well, that's because your head doesn't become a freaking beacon like teary-eyed Talisa over there!" Miseria retorted.

"Hey — I recommend that you quit it. _Now_ , if you please." I growled as I slowly approached Miseria.

"Whoa, there, bitch! Who the hell died and made you queen of anything?" she snickered.

That was all it took to get me really pissed. My eyes began to narrow until they were nothing more than thin slits, while my crystals were a shade of purple that resembled pure poison. In a flash of white, I had Miseria tied up by glowing strands of rope. I pulled her towards me and put her in a headlock.

"Listen here . . . if you wanna bitch off about me, then congratulations. I ain't letting you out of this headlock until hell freezes over." I snarled in a voice that did _not_ sound like my own.

"I'm . . . *cough* sorry! I won't mess with you, I promise!" Miseria choked out. At this point, her face was turning blue, and her breathing was getting slower and slower.

"Who's to say you'll keep that promise? Look — I was just going easy on you, and I'm gonna let you go right now . . . but there's no promising I'll let you live the next time." I growled as I sent her hurtling at the ceiling with a loud crash. Plaster rained down along with Miseria as she crumpled to the floor as soon as she hit it.

Everyone else watched me with fearful, shocked looks on their faces. Even strong, confident Pete looked a little intimidated.

"Holy shit . . . get a load of this girl! Oh, and have you seen her scar? It looks just lie Razi's picture! Jeez . . . is that girl doing voodoo? Black magic?" Desmond hooted.

If my glowing was bright when I nearly killed Miseria, then sure as hell it was blinding now. I lunged at him, kicking, punching and slapping him until he hit a wall. I flipped him over my shoulder, picked him back up and started choking him with one leaf. I pulled out my knife, and I was just about to thrust it into his heart when Raziela and Pete separated us.

"Ohh! Why the _hell_ did you do that?" I protested.

"Too far, Talisa! You've taken it _way_ too far!" Pete yelled.

I lunged at him, and not even a second after that . . .

 _WHAM!_

Pete had pinned me to the ground, fuming like hell.

"Calm down, Talisa. Calm down." Pete whispered as he tried to hold my gaze.

"Stop . . . stop it! I don't need you and your shit!" I growled. His gaze seemed to be dissolving me bit by bit, and it only got me even _more_ enraged. But before I could do anything, everything just went white.

I woke up on what I assumed was my bed, Pete and Raziela beside me.

"Talisa . . . what happened over there? You were . . . out of control." Pete whispered as he squeezed my scarred leaf, which was bandaged heavily.

"What the hell happened to my leaf?" I groaned.

"Um . . . it got scratched up pretty bad. By what, I don't know." Raziela mumbled.

"Um, can you give us a second, Raziela?" Pete grunted. Raziela meekly left the room, leaving me and Pete alone.

"To be honest . . . I used to be like that. This curse is what I like to call a work of corrupted science, which, simply put, means that it's worse than most curses. The fact that it's . . . broken us" Pete murmured as he hugged me tightly.

"Talisa . . . I see you suffering like this and I wish that I wasn't doing better than you. I wish that I could take that pain and toss it away. But I can't . . . unless we break the curse."

"How are we gonna . . . do something about the corrupted science?" I asked.

"We're broken. But the pieces are in place, and no matter how much it seems like they're not, they're there. You just gotta make them fit together. That's all I can say." Pete murmured as he tucked me in.

"Rest now. Rest."

 **A/N: I know, that chapter was weird, and so were the quotes. Heck, some of you might've found it creepy and disturbing. Well, somebody I'm living with sure did. But it'll have an impact on another chapter in this story. That, I can promise you. But until then, theorize all you want guys! I, on the other hand, will see you next time!**

 **~GanerGirl is outta here!**


	6. Flying on the Wings of an Eagle

_**CHAPTER 6: Flying on the Wings of an Eagle**_

 **A/N: After a rather serious and . . . ahem . . . creepy chapter back there, I'm here with a bit more action! But I ain't spoiling the rest of it for you guys!**

 **RnR, people!**

The next few days were spent fighting zombies and not talking about the "corrupted science." But today was different. I don't know how, I don't know _why_ , but today seemed to hold something special. I didn't know what that was when I first got up . . . but I found out soon enough.

After eating a hurried breakfast, we all went our own ways. Pete and I just decided to walk around the building to kill time . . . but the sounds of a fight sparked our curiosity. We followed the sounds of the fighting to what appeared to be Raziela's room. Pete and I cautiously peeked in, and saw Raziela and Desmond having a rather heated brouhaha.

"Desmond, why the _hell_ do you have to be like this?!" Raziela screeched.

"You've had your "fun"! Why don't you go and —" She was cut off by Desmond pinning her to the wall.

"Listen —"

"No, _you_ listen, asshole!"

"Listen, my ass! You're such a goddamn hypocrite, Raziela! The lack of the ability to listen was exactly what gave you that bloody scab!" Desmond roared as he puled out a knife and used it to point rather dramatically at Raziela's neck, which had a nasty-looking scab on it.

"I think the lack of the ability — or rather, _desire_ — to be your slave is what you're talking about! Why don't you get your head straight?" Raziela fired back.

"Why don't _you_ get your head straight, bitch! Maybe if you weren't acting like a high and mighty little butterfly, _none_ of this bullshit would've happened!"

"Well, you didn't have to take it to that level!"

"Oh, really? "You didn't have to take it to that level", ha! Instant replay: "I want a break from my life. I want something _different_. My life is so shitty and boring!" Blah-blah-blah!" Desmond snorted as he took the knife in his leaf and placed the tip on Raziela's scarred neck.

"I can reopen that scab if you want. Because I have no problem doing that unless you follow through with what I say!"

As soon as that was said, Raziela wormed her way out of Desmond's grip and had him in a headlock.

"You listen here . . . you asshole. If you value your hide . . . and that fucking, shit-filled head of yours . . . your are not to be an insubordinate little whore . . . unless you want me to kill you right here. And I absolutely . . . will _not_. . .tolerate any form . . . of harassment . . . whatsoever . . . from this moment on . . . and if I find out that your next victim is Talisa . . . you are going down to meet the devil!" Raziela growled between heavy, angry breaths.

"Yeah well, who died and made you queen of anything anyways? Hey look, Talisa's right there, so why don't I —"

"Why don't you what? Go on. I'm listening." I scoffed as I crossed my arms.

"And anyways, what the hell are you doing in Raziela's room? Second, why did have her under your knife just because she wasn't doing what you wanted her to?! _She's not your slave_ , for crying out loud!" I cried.

Instead of replying, Desmond stalked over to me in a few quick strides, wrapped his arm tightly around me so that I couldn't breathe, and put his knife to my neck.

"Well, then . . . since Raziela's acting like a little bitch . . . why don't I show you —"

"You aren't showing her _anything_ , Desmond. And that's because you are going to let her go right now." Pete growled.

"Or what, huh? Whatcha gonna do, huh? Punch the grass out of me? Turn my head into potato salad? Make up your mind, won't you?" Desmond taunted as he tightened his vice-like grip around my body.

"I'll kick your ass right into outer space if that's what I have to do!" Pete retorted.

"Well go ahead, then. Fight me!" Desmond cackled.

Pete went up to him and prepared to punch him, before Desmond threw his knife at Pete's stomach.

"No! You're _not_ hurting him!" I yelled as I kicked him away, dragged to the staircase, and tossed him down like a sack of potatoes.

"And that oughta teach ya how to keep your leaves to yourself, you little prick!" I barked, before running back to help Pete.

"Talisa! I'm so, _so_ sorry I ended up dragging you into this —" Raziela made an attempt to apologize for something that wasn't even her fault before I cut her off calmly.

"It's fine. Don't worry." With that, Raziela left me and Pete by ourselves.

"Talisa . . . you didn't have to . . ." Pete groaned between raspy breaths.

"Yes, I had to." I fired back as I pulled the knife out of his stomach.

"Now hold still."

I put my leaves on his stomach, and felt a faint buzzing. Taking a deep breath, I lifted my leaves up slowly, which looked like they were tethered to Pete's body. I began to wind the red coils around my leaves, until there weren't any more coming out. I took the mass of coils, which now looked like a glistening, blood-red ball, and sent it flying at the wall, where it shattered into a million pieces that soon dissolved into nothingness.

"Well, well, well. Look at this bitch, acting like she's St. Talisa the Archangel! All bow down to this pile of shit!" Miseria scoffed as she sauntered up the stairs.

"Miseria, cut it out. Why don't you go get a life?" Pete growled as he used one arm to prevent me from beating the Gold Magnet up again.

"Oh, hello Pete. Why were you letting this . . . thing touch you?" Miseria asked innocently, batting her eyes.

"Look — God has a path for us all, and your path should be outta this place, onto the street, and in the way of a streetcar so that you can get mowed over like a clump of grass. Besides, it's not like anybody would want to touch _you_ with a pole as long as this country." I snapped. Miseria just let out a huff of air and stormed off.

"Wanna go on a walk?" Pete asked.

"I guess . . ." I mumbled.

"Why?"

"I think it'd calm you down." he explained.

Sooner or later, we were out the doors and into the city. We walked past Yonge-Dundas Square in silence. And then, out of the blue, I saw something whiz past us.

"What was that?" I asked, drawing my knife.

"I dunno. But look — there are more of them flying down Yonge, see?" Pete pointed out.

"I think they're . . . jetpack zombies."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" I scoffed as another one whistled by. We then heard a loud BANG, followed by a shriek. I turned, and saw that a plant had been shot down.

"Look! They're shooting at plants! So let's follow them and kick 'em into the USA!"

We sprinted after the jetpack zombies, ducking and dodging bullets as we went, trying not to look at the plants that were getting seriously injured by their bullets.

"Holy . . . I dunno what's in those bullets, and quite frankly, after seeing what they did to those plants, I don't _wanna_ know, but whatever it is . . ." I trailed off and pushed Pete out of the path of an incoming bullet.

"I don't wanna know." I finished as we arrived at Nathan Phillips Square.

But as soon as my gaze had wandered away from the flying undead, I was met with a gory sight. Simply put, the square was a _bloodbath_. The bodies of plants and poor, little sprouts littered the square. The fountain was filled with the blood of the wounded and the fallen. Zombies were scurrying around left, right and center, shooting anything and everything that was in their way.

"Great. We're in a fight scene. So what're we supposed to do?" Pete demanded.

"We fight!" I screamed back.

We started from the edge of Queen, and slowly took the armed zombies out. I got bullets in my arms and roots, but that didn't stop me. Oh, hell no! Seeing the blood red water of the fountain, I was emboldened, ready to be the advocate for the plants that had died fighting for their families. My crystals glowed a brilliant shade of blue as Pete and I battled our way towards the Peace Gardens, which were anything but peaceful, considering the amount of fighting that was going on. Soon enough, we caught sight of the perpetrator of this attack was lurking. As soon as I had a better look at him, I could see that the zombie behind the attack was an undead military commander. He was directing the last of his troops, and I was determined to stop him.

"Stay here. I ain't letting you get hurt." I said to Pete.

I then quickly shimmied up a statue, grabbed my knife, and leaped towards the platform he was standing on. I landed behind him with a yell and a thud.

"Whoa, whoa . . . What the _hell_ is this?! Did Raziela send you?" the zombie demanded.

"You're dead, moldy!" I screeched as I tried to slash at him, only to have the zombie pull out a sword and block my knife.

"Who the hell are you?!" the undead commander shrieked as I leaped onto yet another statue. As my glowing returned, I shot off the statue, ready to behead this dude.

"My name is Talisa Faith Glace-Blanche, and I happen to be one of Raziela's Eagles!" I screamed.

"I also happened to see that you and your mercenaries have been shooting innocent plants down by the dozen! So guess what? I'm about to make you pay for your wrongs!" The zombie blocked me with his sword, but that didn't stop me from stabbing him in the crotch.

"Shit!" he howled at the moon.

"So . . . so this . . . this is the best that Raziela could muster, eh?" he sniggered hollowly.

"Oh, _fuck yeah!_ 'Cause you're going down to meet Satan!" I retorted as I stabbed him yet again in the side.

"Oh, really?" he laughed as he slowly raised his arms

"Soldiers, attack!" he yelled. Almost instantaneously, more mercenaries appeared outta nowhere. Pete and I tried to shoot them down, but there always seemed to be a hundred more zombies to replace the fallen.

But then suddenly, a shot rang out. And less than a second later, a zombie randomly crumpled to the ground, dead. Then another shot rang out. And another. And more and more of those zombies were getting killed.

"That's right, _bitches_." I turned around, and saw Raziela striding into the square, two pistols in her leaves.

 _BANG! BANG! BANG!_

"Soldiers, _retreat!_ " the commander yelled as he made an attempt to book it along with his army, but I was too quick for him. With one fell swoop of my knife, he was headless and lifeless.

"You're welcome. Now let's get back home. And Talisa, I need to have a word with you." Raziela sighed as we began to head back.

The walk was silent and thick with the air that Pete and I were in _really_ serious trouble. As soon as we had arrived, Raziela dragged me into her room and closed the door.

"Talisa . . . congratulations!" she gushed as she gave me a tight hug.

"You've officially earned the honor of being an Eagle!"

Tears of joy sprang into my eyes, for my one wish since entering the place had come true: to become one of _them_. To become an Eagle.

"You didn't have to intervene when those zombies attacked. You walked right up and whooped their asses!" she explained as she handed me a box wrapped in tissue paper.

"For you, Talisa." she whispered.

I excitedly tore off the wrapping and opened the box within, revealing an ivory pistol.

"To get you outta sticky situations. I mean, I ain't gonna be able to come barging in to go bang-bang-bang, y'know?" Raziela joked.

A few minutes later, I exited Raziela's room bearing our gang's tattoo on my right leaf.

"Hey, Talisa. I can see that you're a full-fledged Eagle now! I'm so happy for you!" Pete laughed as he came down the hall.

"Thanks . . ." I mumbled, blushing furiously.

"It's really awesome to see you all happy and stuff. To be honest, it's one of the first times I've _ever_ seen you smile." he remarked, before giving me a hug.

"I'm really glad you're here, Talisa. I mean . . . we're stuck together thanks to that curse, and if someone were to ask me who I'd rather share a curse with, it's you, even if it _is_ corrupted science." Pete whispered.

"Yeah. To be honest, I feel the same way too." I confessed, making both of us blush even harder.

"Anyways . . . we should get to bed, shouldn't we? Razi said something about tomorrow being a long day or something." Pete suggested, before taking me upstairs.

"Sweet dreams, Talisa." he said, before heading into his room.

I flopped down onto my bed and sighed, my heart beating a million times a minute. Honestly, I have _never_ felt this high in my life. Simply put, I felt like I was flying.

 _Flying on the wings of an Eagle._

 **A/N: ANNND CUT! That's gonna be all for a week or so, because I had these first six chapters written with pen and paper when I was at Youthdale, so I had to type it all out. That's why I was updating pretty damn quickly. But now, I just gotta go along with a messily scrawled plot inside a notebook. But 'nuf said! Till next time, everyone!**

 **~GamerGirl has left the building!**


End file.
